


Into the Dark

by ferventrabbit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, Season 1, Sleepwalking, Voyeurism, encephalitis, hannibal is a major creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferventrabbit/pseuds/ferventrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the dark Will looked like a shadow. Hannibal felt the soft sound of Will’s breathing on his skin, tasted it in his throat."</p><p>Prepare for super creepy times!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkpriestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpriestess/gifts).



> For [sherlocks freebitch](http://sherlocks-freebitch.tumblr.com/)'s prompt about Hannibal being a creepy creep.

Mr. Henderson’s flank was sliced in quarters and tucked into Hannibal’s coat pocket. It pained him to forego the seasoning he’d imagined – vinegar rub and a touch of berbere – but it would have been wasted on the dogs. There were one or two curious barks and then the quick panting of anticipation. After three consecutive days they were accustomed to his smell and the promise of meat that followed.

The dogs shuffled forward and back as he eased the door open. He kept a knee in the widening gap to prevent the pack from slipping out. He had asked about their toilette with an admittedly  upturned nose, but at the mention of “wee wee pads” Hannibal decided he was happy to dwell in ignorance. The mere fact that he had gained enough of Will’s trust to look after the dogs boded well.

He couldn’t quite distinguish their forms in the darkness, only flashes of the whites of their eyes. He tossed the quarters of meat in slow succession and heard each sharp snap of teeth. Once the dogs had been mollified and left to divvy the scraps amongst themselves, Hannibal reached for the light switch by the door. He blinked against the light and then again in surprise to see Will asleep on top of the bed covers, one arm thrown across his eyes. Hannibal Lecter was rarely surprised, and of the infrequent occasions few had been pleasant. This was an exception.

Reflexively, Hannibal flicked off the switch and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness over the course of a heartbeat. Will was fully clothed, and his hair was fanned out against the pillow, his glasses askew on his face. It said _collapse_.

The dogs had finished their repast and were circling Hannibal’s heels, questioning. He shushed them with a low breath and laid his hand flat at hip-level. They sank down with a litany of huffs and whines.

In the dark Will looked like a shadow. Hannibal felt the soft sound of Will’s breathing on his skin, tasted it in his throat. He stood motionless for several moments, then approached the bed with measured steps. At times Will would gasp in his sleep, roll fitfully to one side and then furrow his brow. Hannibal could smell the thick bloom of sweat, and in sleep Will’s encephalitis rolled into the air in sweet waves, more pungent and pure. As dawn approached Hannibal spared a pat for each dog as they came to see him off. He kept his headlights dark until he had pulled into the street towards home.

 

***

 

The Jesse Turner case had Will unusually flustered, edging on compulsive. His gift for Abigail was, to Hannibal, a segue into greater and greater impulsivity, an inevitable descent. He stood closer than usual and breathed Will in through his nostrils, comparing the scent of sleep to wakefulness. 

That night he drove to Wolf Trap in the early morning hours. There were no barks, only the excited pants and whines. Hannibal brought them Mr. Henderson’s other thigh. He would need to restock.

Hannibal removed his coat and moved to drape it over the nearest chair. The wooden slats creaked beneath him, and Will sat straight up in bed with his eyes open and pinned forward. Hannibal had not thought to bring a knife, not even the length of wire curled in his glove compartment. He would have to use his bare hands. It would be loud and slow and messy. Adrenaline toughens the meat.

But Will sat still and silent, his deep breathing evidence of steady, soft NREM. Within a few minutes he had moved from the center of the bed to the edge. Hannibal watched the movement of his limbs, smoother and more fluid in sleep. Will’s head tipped forward onto his chest, and his chin rested on the thin, cheap fabric of his t-shirt. He pushed himself up to stand. Hannibal heard a faint muttering but could not make out the words. Will swayed slightly on his feet, but then walked slowly to the stairs and climbed them one by one. By now the dogs were crowding around him, trailing him up the steps in an unruly flock. Hannibal followed after them.

Will stood in the center of an empty room, hands soft by his side. Hannibal advanced until he was a breath away. A light sweat broke out on Will’s scalp, and Hannibal felt his own blood loud and rushing. “What follows, Will?” he whispered. Will’s head canted to the right, exposing his throat. Then he glided forward toward the windows, opening one just enough to slip through. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but it would wake him forcefully and painfully. Hannibal left the dogs clambering at the window, retrieved his coat from the living room and hoped that the start of his engine wouldn’t rouse Will where he stood. As he drove away Will became less and less distinct, the cut of him a shadowed sentinel in the cool air.

 

***

 

The following night brought rain-slicked streets that slushed beneath Hannibal’s tires, tossing up spikes of light from reflected street lamps. A few of the dogs greeted him, but others remained huddled on the ground. When he entered Will was already standing up, staring at the wall. One of the dogs was by his side. Hannibal clamped down on the brief flush of panic when Will turned towards him. At his approach Hannibal stepped aside. Will opened the door with both hands, and the dog beside him hurried through. Hannibal shushed the others, waiting a moment before following Will onto the porch. Will’s feet were bare, and his thin boxer briefs were hardly warm enough to keep the chill from his muscles. Will walked across the lawn and into the empty street.

It was unsafe, imprudent to follow him. If they were spotted there was no recourse. But there was the sight of Will’s body moving surely through the night, and the smell of him close and untempered. He was rare, beguiling. It thrilled Hannibal to be curious.

He joined the man and the dog on the road, the three of them a slow pilgrimage. He kept a few paces behind Will. They were heading northeast. After a few miles Will began to stumble on every other step, his feet scraping against asphalt. “Keep going,” Hannibal said, testing. Will paused, but then continued on steadily. Hannibal reached forward with a light touch to Will’s palm. He watched a tiny shiver climb up Will’s spine, relished the arch of his neck. “Come see me tomorrow,” he murmured.  

Hannibal caught the quirk of the dog’s ears and slid into the line of trees by the side of road. At the first flash of red and blue he began to run, slipping through slick branches at speed. He made quick work of the distance. He arrived in Will’s driveway with a deep exhale, and the dogs howled and yelped at the windows. Hannibal took the backroads back to Baltimore, driving until dawn.

 

***

 

“Although I may be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?”

“I’m sorry it’s so early.”

“Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends.” 

Hannibal bent to his task, pouring a cup of coffee and reaching so Will could take it. They talked of the relative risks of sleepwalking, its potential causes and ramifications. Hannibal slid Jack’s ambition under Will’s nose, watched Will take the first inhale. He smiled when their eyes met.

“Until our next appointment, Will.”

“Or until my next midnight stroll.” 

“Perhaps sleep in your shoes and socks on subsequent nights. Your bare feet can only take so much abrasion.”

“How did you - “

Will turned in the doorway, empty coffee cup in hand. Hannibal eased it from him.

“Goodbye, Will.”

“See you.”

Hannibal shut the door behind him and watched Will hover in the driveway, debating something. When he drove away Hannibal caught him glancing back at the house.  
  
_No, you don’t_ , he thought. _Not yet._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy to take Hannigram prompts on [Tumblr](http://ferventrabbit.tumblr.com/ask)! Help fill my wintry days :-)


End file.
